Camryn Quinn is finally getting what she wants...sort of. Moving into a dorm and away from her not so supportive father is a good first step, but like everything with him, it comes with strings. She must attend the college of his choosing for at lea...
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Cal and I walk towards the valet stand where he hands the worker his ticket. As we wait for his car to be returned to us, I watch Camryn and Alyssa walk towards the bus stop. I think it's strange that he didn't even offer to give them a ride back to campus when we're all going to the same place, but the obviously strained relationship between that sibling duo is non of my business.
"Stop eye fucking my sister," Cal says, shoving his shoulder into mine. I quickly snap my eyes away from their direction, now fully aware that I was staring like a fucking weirdo.
"I wasn't!" I yell back with a chuckle.
"I saw the looks you two were giving each other. What the fuck was that?" Cal asks.
I bite back a smile. I didn't think anyone noticed the way we were silently challenging one another throughout dinner. Fucking with Camryn is the best entertainment and she made it far too easy tonight. I swear she stopped breathing outside the bathroom. She was like a cat that hides any time someone comes too close to it, skittish and hissing.
"To be fair nine, you were eye fucking her roommate," I retort.
"That's a little different, Dick."
"Well I was just giving you a chance with her," I shrug.
"We all know that if it were an eye fucking competition, Allison would choose me," Cal protests.
"Why don't you go ask Alyssa and we will find out?" I say back, shaking my head at how stupid he is. I may not care much for details when it comes to girls, but I can at least try to remember their names.
Cal's face is still twisted with anger, and I can't tell if it's still about his sister or the conversation he had with Coach as we were leaving. I wasn't trying to eavesdrop, but every few seconds he alternated between pointing a middle finger at Cal's chest and then back towards the restaurant obviously talking about something that had just happened at dinner.
I choose to ignore Cal's fuming, and play around on my phone. As soon as I unlock it, I have a message and picture waiting in our family group chat. It's only my mom and sister, though, because my grandparents refuse to get smartphones or learn how to text.
Mama: Nana made your favorites tonight since I won't feel like eating after tomorrow.
Below the message is a picture of my family at the dinner table in our kitchen back home. My mom's arm is outstretched in front of her, trying to capture everyone in the small frame. I can't make out all the food on the table, but that doesn't matter. What I focus on is the look on their faces, my mom in particular. I try to memorize the fullness of her face, the color that fills her cheeks. After she starts her treatment tomorrow both will probably disappear quickly.
It hits me again, the sinking feeling I've become too familiar with since I learned that her cancer is back. I should be there with them, helping prepare for what tomorrow will bring. I should be the one moving the TV to her bedroom for her to watch when she's too tired to get out of bed and stocking the fridge with the watermelon popsicles that she likes.
